It was a Dark and Stormy Night
by Absolut
Summary: Well, the title says it all. To know more, just read it ...


**It was a Dark and Stormy Night ...**  
By Absolut.  
  
A/N: Don't ask me why but I always wanted to write a story beginning with 'It was a dark and stormy night ...'. So, here it is. It kind of comes back to the cannon (Hannibal) at the end ... in a weird way, I agree.  
Pretty different from what I've written so far but ... _After all, as your mother tells you, and my mother certainly told me ... It is important, she always used to say ... always to try new things.  
_  
Disclaimer: No matter how hard I try to convince myself, I know that the character of Hannibal Lecter does not belong to me, but to the brilliant Thomas Harris sigh. I am borrowing him only for the night and promise I will turn him back in the morning, unharmed. No copyright infringement intended and I swear I'm not making any money with this.  
  
It was a dark and stormy night. Squalls of wind were sending up leaves and earth. It was freezing, too cold to snow, and the rare people still out were hurrying towards their home, or wherever they were going. The streets were progressively getting empty. Well ... Not quite, actually ...  
  
Under the cover of a carriage gateway a man had been quietly observing the street for some time. He was standing in the shadow, perfectly still, hadn't it be for his two piercing eyes peering into darkness. He did not seem to suffer from the terrible weather. Wrapped up in a long dark coat, his face almost covered by a black scarf and hat, he was hardly visible.  
  
The sirens of a police patrol car rang out in the distance, so usual a sound in the city that nobody even paid attention to it. An old black chevy went down the street slowly and parked about twenty yards from where the man was waiting. The car door opened and for a second or two the face of the driver came into the light. The man in the dark coat smiled. Everything was on schedule ... As always when he made a plan.  
  
The driver stepped out of his car. As far as one could see in this moonless night, he was still young, thirty, maybe thirty five, about six feet tall, rather sturdy. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a leather jacket that he hastily zipped to protect himself from the cold. He moved to the back of his car, opened the trunk and retrieved a large brown paper bag from it. As every Friday evening he had gone shopping for the week-end and would not have to go out for two full days.  
  
With his free hand he pulled up the collar of his jacket and headed to the door of his house, struggling against the wind, unaware of the two maroon eyes which were following each of his movements. He ran up the few steps leading to the two storey little house he had inherited from his parents and went in, carefully locking the door behind him. Two seconds later, the light was switched on in what the man in the street had identified as the kitchen.

* * *

Charles W. Brenner Jr. laid his shopping bag on the kitchen table. He took off his gloves and opened his jacket, but he kept it on. He went to the dining room and busied himself lighting a fire in the old chimney. He remained there kneeling for a few minutes until the temperature of the room went up enough to color his cheeks. His pale blue eyes were pointing at the window but he was too much lost deep in his thoughts to watch anything in particular.  
  
He suddenly stood up as if something had wakened him from a nightmare. He had a quick look around as if he needed to remember where he was. The sight of the familiar room reassured him. He had been born and lived his whole life in this house. He knew each every inch of it, could spot immediately the smallest stain on the carpet ... He was home and nothing bad could ever happen to him inside these walls.  
  
A light smile came on his face. He headed back towards the kitchen. Instinctively he stopped in front of the door that was leading down to the cellar. He briefly hesitated, but decided otherwise. Now was not the time. There were things he had to do before he could get his reward. He made his way to the kitchen and started emptying his shopping bag.  
  
After he had staffed the food in the fridge or in the cupboards above the sink, he sat on one of the chairs and took the last item from the paper bag. He delicately laid it in front of him on the table and stared at it for a couple of minutes, like a kid not daring to open his so long awaited presents on Christmas eve. It was already packed neatly when he retrieved it from the store tonight, and so he had not seen it finished. The excitement almost paralyzed him.  
  
He took a deep breath and his large fingers started to undo the bow. He did not want to damage it by going too fast. After everything was over, he would keep it with the rest of his treasure in the box under his bed. This way he would be able to remember for ever the emotion of the moment. The sound of the creased paper made him shiver. He opened the parcel and stayed still, his mouth half opened, watching the precious fabric, not daring to spoil it with the contact of his hands.  
  
Only when the temptation became unbearable did he put his fingers under the straps and lift the little piece of cloth in the light. The dress was beautiful, exactly as he had dreamt it. And, as far as he could judge, the size would fit too.  
  
A princess dress for Chuck's little princess !  
  
He chuckled. He carefully laid the dress back in the parcel and covered it. Now he had to prepare for dinner. Everything had to be perfect tonight.

* * *

Hannibal Lecter waited in the gateway for another half hour, watching the light through the windows and the shadow of Chuck Brenner moving from room to room. He knew remaining in his hiding place too long was not safe. The neighbors could end up noticing him and call the police. Anyway, time was coming and he had to move.  
  
He pulled his coat closer and started to walk in the opposite direction from the house, then took the first street on his left. He had rehearsed it so many times in the last two days that he could find his way with his eyes closed. Another turn to the left ... thirty more yards ... and he finally found himself before the old wooden fence.  
  
There were no streetlights near the backyard of Brenner's house, but he had a look around to ensure nobody was watching him. Once he was reassured, he retrieved little pliers from the pocket of his coat and started undoing the knots of metal wires that were handling the fence boards together. As he had done the day before when exploring Brenner's house, he quickly separated the boards and, after a last look around, penetrated in the garden.  
  
The dog moved his tail and slightly moaned, but did not bark. Hannibal crouched down and removed his left glove. He stared at the animal and slowly extended his bare hand to him. The dog hesitated for a while, then came a little bit closer. It was a big black Doberman apparently well fed and trained to defend the house. But it did not attack, as if sensing the danger in Hannibal Lecter's presence. Hannibal patiently let the dog smell his hand and slowly pulled his arm back, until the animal came a few inches from his chest. Then he started stroking its head and murmured soothing words to its ears.  
  
Once he felt that the dog was confident enough, he took the syringe he had prepared and drove the needle in the dog's side. The animal jumped but Hannibal maintained it in his embrace and appeased it, until the dog finally fell deeply asleep. Hannibal controlled its pulse, gave it a last stroke and raised his face to the building.  
  
Only the lights on the ground floor were on. So ... Chuckie was still downstairs ... Never mind, Hannibal was a patient man.  
  
He took the Doberman in his arms and transported it to the side of the house, where Brenner could not see him from a window. Then he sat on the ground against the fence and started waiting.

* * *

Chuck had a last look at the long dining table and a smile of satisfaction illuminated his face. He had dressed the table with a beautiful cream tablecloth he had bought from one of these luxury shops in New York. He had used the china and crystal glasses that were coming from his grand-mother and that her mother had never used since her wedding. The plates were disposed at each end of the table, giving a ceremonious aspect to the scene. In the middle, between the two large silver candlesticks, were standing twelve red roses in a china vase. It was perfect.  
  
He went back to the kitchen to check the wild boar stew. It would be ready in an hour. Now the wine ...  
  
He opened the door to the cellar, switched on the light and started down. He did not hesitate in front of the bottle rack. He had kept the bottle of Montrachet for a special occasion and tonight was certainly special. He took the bottle delicately and cradled it in his arm as one would do with a baby.  
  
On his way back he stopped in front of the heavy metallic door. He had the key with him. It would be so easy to open it and have a look ... just a look ... His hand was clenched on the key ring in his pocket, trembling. He had to gather all his strengths to resist, but it was still too early. He was a man now. He could keep the control ... He had to.  
  
He leaned against the door and pressed his ear on the cold surface, holding his breath. The smothered sound of a sob reached through the door. A single tear formed in Chuck's eye and rolled freely down his cheek. She was so fragile ... so delicate ... so close to perfection ... And she belonged to **him**.  
  
He had tried to go with women before. They had been nice with him at the beginning. He knew he was attractive and these bitches had been more than willing to follow him. He clenched his teeth at the memories of his past attempts. But after a while, they had all started to mock him. Once they believed they had seduced him, they had treated him like a little boy ... a nasty little boy as his mother used to call him.  
  
But Sandy was different. Sandy had not yet been spoiled by life and the other men. Sandy had the innocence of the child and the beauty of a goddess. She was all he'd been looking for all these years. She was made for him.  
  
It took him a few seconds to regain his composure. He wiped away the tear. A few minutes more ... A few minutes of patience and they would be together, for eternity ...  
  
He went up back to the dining room, opened the bottle of wine and slowly let the dark red liquid run into the decanter. Then he placed the carafe on the table, as far as possible from the fire.  
  
Everything was ready. All he had to do now was to prepare himself. He had to be handsome for his little princess. Tonight was **their** night.

* * *

Hannibal had been observing the back facade of the house for forty minutes when the first light went on on the first floor. Brenner's bedroom, he remembered. A few moments later he saw Chuck's shadow move to the adjoining bathroom. He waited for a couple of minutes more and, when he was reasonably certain that the man was under the shower, Hannibal stood up and headed to the back door.  
  
He picked the lock of the verandah door almost instantaneously. He closed the door behind him and penetrated in the kitchen.  
  
The cooking stew titillated his keen sense of smell. He lifted the lid of the pan and tasted the sauce. Umh ... Not so bad. He added a pinch of salt and stirred delicately with a wooden spoon. He was starting feeling hungry and he could certainly use the sauce to accommodate his meat once all would be finished.  
  
As cool and silent as a cat, Hannibal moved to the dining room. He stopped by the fireplace. Hours of waiting in the cold had made the fire appealing to him. After his body had started to store up the heat, he removed his coat, scarf and hat and laid them carefully on a chair, ensuring Chuck would not see them when he would come back downstairs. He was wearing an elegant black tuxedo and was perfectly fitted in the scenery that poor old Chuckie had set up.  
  
He moved to the table and gave a connoisseur look at the table ... and the wine. "So nice of you to have dressed such a beautiful table for me, Chuckie. I might let you enjoy the dinner after all ..." But the grin on his face would have made it clear to any observer that his plans for Charles Brenner did not include any social reunion.  
  
Hannibal checked the Harpy in the pocket of his trousers and retrieved the rope and the syringe from his coat. After having controlled that everything was ready, he went to stand behind the door leading to the staircase and waited silently.

* * *

Chuck gave a last look at the mirror and smiled at his image: he could be incredibly handsome when he was making an effort. The suit had cost him a fortune but Sandy deserved it. He pronounced her name once again. Sandy ... almost like Cinderella ... He buttoned up his jacket and headed to the stairs.  
  
Hannibal heard him coming down and his whole body tensed up. He stood perfectly still, mentally counting the steps ... 12 ... 13 ...14. He waited till Brenner had passed the doorway and suddenly grabbed the man right arm and tore it behind his back. After the first second of surprise, Brenner tried to fight. The man was strong but Hannibal had taken care to maintain him in a disadvantaged position. He increased the pressure and the next sound he heard was the muffled crack of Brenner's collarbone, immediately followed by a cry of pain.  
  
Taking advantage of his adversary's momentary weakness, Hannibal dragged him to a chair and grabbed the rope he had prepared. In less than five seconds he had immobilized Chuck, who tried to escape, but too late. Hannibal ensured the knots were solid and took a deep breath. None of the men had uttered a single word.  
  
With one violent movement, Hannibal turned over the chair so that his prey could face him. Chuck was moaning and clenching his teeth. He finally raised his face and pain and fear in his eyes were immediately replaced by disbelief. "Dr. Lecter ?" he whispered. Hannibal's lips opened in a large smile.  
  
" - I am flattered you remember me, Chuck. It has been a long time, hasn't it ?  
- Dr. Lecter ... But what ...  
- What am I doing here ? Well, unfortunate events prevented me from completing your therapy - I apologize for that. But as your mother had paid in advance for a few more sessions, I thought it would be fair to honor my commitment. Call it ... professionalism ?"  
  
To the mention of his mother, Brenner's whole body tensed up.  
  
" - Tst tst ... I can see that some old conflicts have not yet been resolved, have they, Chuckie ?" Hannibal went on. "Tell me, how is your **mummy **?  
- She's **dead**." Brenner had spat the words with obvious disgust and anger.  
" - I see. I'm sorry, Chuck. She was a woman of character ...  
- She was a bitch !  
- Yeah ... That too ... But enough with the sad memories ! I can see that you have organized a very special dinner tonight. I don't expect it was for me ?"  
  
For the first time, Chuck Brenner looked straight in Hannibal Lecter's eyes. And what he saw in them sent shivers down his spine.  
  
" - What do you want, Dr. Lecter ?" he murmured.  
" - I must confess I have not been completely honest with you, Chuckie. As a matter of fact, I've been watching you for some time and, as much as it costs me, I must admit my approach to your case has been wrong from the beginning. A classical psychoanalysis was definitely not what was needed. I am now thinking of a more ... radical solution."  
  
Hannibal put his hand on Brenner's mouth before he could answer. "If I were you, Chuck, I would think about the whole situation before yelling and alerting your neighbors ... Explaining what a little girl is doing locked in your basement could become ... tricky, don't you think ?" Brenner's eyes were now widened with pure fear. "I know," Hannibal went on, "this is not entirely **your **fault. If mummy had not abused her _little nasty boy_ in the first place, things could have been different. However, we have to break the chain somewhere, don't we ?" The fire in Hannibal's eyes suddenly disappeared and was replaced by something close to compassion. "I know you don't really **want **to hurt her, Chuckie. But the real question here is: can you avoid it ?"  
  
Hannibal paused for a few seconds before he continued: "What's her name, Chuckie ?" he asked softly, all anger having disappeared from his tone. He slowly withdrew his hand from Brenner's mouth to let him answer.  
  
" - Sandy ..." Chuck whispered.  
" - Sandy ... that's a beautiful name." Chuck nodded. "And how old is Sandy, Chuck ?  
- ... Six.  
- Six years old ... I see ... She's **very** young, Chuck. And innocent, isn't she ?  
- Yes."  
  
Hannibal unpacked the syringe he had brought with him, went to Brenner's back and drove the needle right in the man's spine. The effect should be immediate and, considering the dose, should last long enough. Brenner's body contracted and his members started to shake frantically. Then after a few seconds all his muscles relaxed and he became perfectly still. Hannibal untied the rope that was maintaining Chuck on the chair. It was useless now. He walked around the chair and raised Chuck's face to him.  
  
Brenner's body was completely relaxed. Only his eyes could now express his panic.  
  
"Don't worry, Chuck, I will try to do it as fast as possible. What I just injected to you is succinylcholine. I thought it would be ... appropriate. They use it in the death row, you know. Not the lethal injection though. This drug is attacking your central nervous system and paralyzing your body. Of course, to respect the standard procedure, I should have first given you a shot of sodium thipental. This is to avoid the pain. Unfortunately, I could not find any. I hope you will forgive me." Compassion had definitely left Lecter's eyes. He tilted his head on the left and smiled at Brenner. "Now, Chuck, if you will excuse me, I still have to prepare for the third phase."  
  
Hannibal went to the kitchen. He stopped by the cooker to check the stew. It was almost ready. He grabbed some towels and an apron that were hanging behind the door. Then, for the first time, the nice little parcel on the table drew his attention. He came closer and lifted the paper. The black miniature pencil dress had been neatly folded. It was then that his anger reached its climax. "It's a very nice dress you've got here, Chuckie !" he shouted so that Brenner could hear him. The only answer he got was an unintelligible gurgling. "Don't you think it's a little bit too ... sexy for a six years old girl, though ?"  
  
He came back to the dining room. "What had your little sick mind planned exactly, Chuckie ?" As no answer could be expected, he removed his jacket, put on the apron and went on. "Never mind, Chuck. The important thing is that whatever you had planned will not happen, right ?" Hannibal took his Harpy and patted Brenner's cheek with the blade. " So ... Where were we ? Ha yes, the 'death by injection' sentence: I was explaining the procedure to you. I hope I'm not annoying you, Chuck ? No ? Good."  
  
Hannibal started unbuttoning Brenner's shirt. "The third, and final, part of the procedure consists in an injection of potassium chloride. It stops the heart beating. I must admit that most of the time it's clean ... and fast. However, I happen to know another way of stopping your heart. Less clean, but more original ...".  
  
The light of the candles reflected on Hannibal's Harpy blade just before it entered in Brenner's chest. Paralyzed by the drug, his body did not react. Hannibal was proceeding fast and with the precision of a surgeon. Experience ... A few minutes later, Charles W. Brenner's heart was in his hands, still hot. The patient had stopped living.  
  
Hannibal laid the heart on one of the china plate and undertook to stop the bleeding and close the wound. Once he had cleaned the chest with the towels, he buttoned Brenner's shirt and drew his jacket forward. He pushed the chair to the table, raised Chuck's face and closed his eyes. He had a final look at his work. Brenner seemed to be sleeping. Any trace of violence had disappeared. Hannibal did not want the little girl to be scared.  
  
He finished cleaning the place and brought the bloody towels and the heart to the kitchen. There, he removed the lid of the pan where the stew was now ready. He removed the pieces of boar meat, and replaced them with finely sliced pieces of the late Mr. Brenner's organ. After having stirred it, he covered the preparation. Lastly, he cleaned himself carefully.  
  
In the dining room, he put his jacket back on to hide the last stains of blood and searched Brenner's suit for the basement keys. Once he had them, he went down to the cellar.

* * *

During the whole evening events, including the fight and the heart removal, Hannibal's heartbeat had not reached 80. But there, in the basement, just before opening the door behind which the little girl had been detained for days, he could feel the sweat running down his temples and chilling his back.  
  
He unlocked the door and opened it slowly. It was dark and silent inside. It took a few seconds before his eyes got used to darkness and finally spotted the little girl. She was curled up in a corner of the room, her arms around her knees. She was staring at him. Hannibal entered cautiously and sat on the floor, near the door. She did not say a word or make a move. He waited a few minutes, still and silent, to give her time to get used to his presence. Even from the distance, he could see the child was in shock. Maybe the drugs he had brought would not be necessary to keep her quiet.  
  
Her dress had been torn apart and he guessed she had settled in that position to hide her nudity. He could very well imagined what Brenner had done to her and felt somewhat guilty for not having stopped him before. But guilt was not a feeling Hannibal Lecter was familiar with, and it rapidly fainted. Her face was dirty and he could distinguish the marks left by tears on her cheeks. Outside, the storm was raging and the sound of thunder startled the child.  
  
"Sandy ..." he called her, his voice as sweet and appeasing as possible. She looked away. "Sandy, I am not going to hurt you ... I came here to help you." She turned her face back to him but she did not answer. He could see she did not believe him but how could she. He let a few seconds pass and tried again. "Sandy, everything's gonna be alright now. But I need you to come with me." No reaction. "It's cold here." he started again. "There's a fire upstairs. We would be much more comfortable to talk ... Besides, I'm starting to get hungry ... But if you prefer to stay here, then it's fine with me. I will not force you."  
  
Hannibal was starting to wonder if he would manage to get her out. He could not stay there forever. He had to think of his own safety too. When suddenly the tiny voice resounded in the room. "Where is Chuck ?" she asked. He smiled. "Chuck won't touch you anymore, Sandy. I promise ... You can trust me: I do have some defects but I don't lie." Her look softened, just a little bit, but enough for Hannibal to catch it.  
  
" - Do **you** lie, Sandy ?" he asked mischievously. She first hesitated, but finally decided to answer.  
" - Sometimes. But not often ... Daddy doesn't like it.  
- And your daddy is right: little girls should never lie. What's his name ?  
- ... Mark.  
- It's a nice name. Is he kind with you ?  
- Yes." This time the answer had come immediately and her voice was a bit firmer. "And mummy too ..." she added. "Her name is Helen.  
- Helen ... I am certain she has blond hair just like you, right ?  
- Yes."  
  
Hannibal made her talk about her family for another ten minutes. When he thought she was relaxed enough, he asked again: "Will you come with me upstairs now, Sandy ? I'm starting feeling really cold." She did not answer, but after a while she clumsily stood up. He waited till she came closer and handed her his hand. She took it and he stood up too.  
  
They went out of the room and up to the house. When they arrived to the dining room, the little girl saw Chuck Brenner's body and froze, squeezing Hannibal's hand in hers. "Don't worry, Sandy." he soothed her. "Chuck is sleeping now. And he's gonna sleep for a very long time. He won't do you any harm." She raised her face to him and for a second he saw she was trying to decide if she could trust him or not. The pressure of her little fingers on his hand finally decreased.  
  
"Good." he whispered. "Are you hungry, Sandy ?" She nodded. "Alright. This is what we are going to do. We are going to have a good dinner first, and then I will take you back to your parents. Is that OK with you ?" she nodded again. "What's your name ?" she asked. The question took him by surprise. He hesitated. If he told her his name, he would have to drug her afterwards. And he did not want to do that.  
  
" - You can call me H." he finally answered.  
" - Just H ?  
- Yes, just H."  
  
He led her to the table and helped her on the chair. "I'm going to fetch our dinner in the kitchen, Sandy. I'll be back in a minute, alright ?". She nodded. While leaving the room, he saw her unfold her napkin and tie it neatly around her neck.  
  
He came back a few minutes later with his customized version of Brenner's stew. He helped Sandy a generous portion and poured mineral water in her crystal glass. Then he went to his side of the table, helped himself a glass of wine, and sat. He took a sip of the Montrachet. It was a little bit too warm, but was still acceptable.   
  
He glanced at Sandy. She was eating the stew as if she had not eaten in days. Come to think of it, she probably hadn't.  
  
" - How is it ?" he asked with an amused look.  
" - It's good." she answered between two mouthfuls. "What is it ?  
- It's a personal recipe. I call it the 'Surprise Stew'. I'm glad you like it.  
- Its' good."

* * *

After dinner, he gathered his things and they went to the door. The storm had not calmed down and it had started snowing. Hannibal had a look at the little girl in her torn attire. Without a word, he wrapped her in his coat and took her in his arms. He closed the door behind them and started to walk down the street, trying to protect his precious load.  
  
He had parked the Jaguar far enough for it not to catch attention and it took him almost ten minutes to get to it. When he opened the door, he realized that Sandy had fallen asleep. He delicately laid her in the passenger seat and fasten her seat belt. Then he went to the driver's side and settled in. The streets were desert. He started the engine and they left.  
  
The trip did not take five minutes. The neon on the front of the police station was broken and flashing randomly. He parked a few yards away so that the officers could not see him from the inside.  
  
Hannibal watched the little girl sleep for a while, then gently woke her up. She painfully opened her eyes and stared at him, puzzled.  
  
" - Here we are, young lady." he said. "I know I told you I would take you to your parents, but I have an appointment later and I can't go that far. But if you go there," he pointed at the police station, "the officers will take you home.  
- OK." she sounded a bit disappointed.  
"- They are policemen, Sandy. You have nothing to fear.  
- I know.  
- Good. You'd better go now. Your parents must be worried."  
  
She nodded and got rid of Hannibal's coat. Before he could react, she hauled herself up on the seat and planted a little kiss on his cheek. Then she opened the door and stepped out of the car. "Good-bye, H." she said. And she left.  
  
"Good-bye, little lamb." he answered. But he was not sure she had heard him.  
  
Hannibal watched the child until she reached the police station and was safe inside. Then he started the engine of the Jaguar and disappeared in the night.

**_- The End -_**  


* * *

_That's all, folks. Thanks for reading. And remember: reviews are always welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
  
_


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